Chapter 13

Ife, Northwest Africa

Max and Yande were nearly free. Their hearts pounded in their chests when they heard her voice. They turned to see Nneka. Yande stared into her eyes. Nneka looked from her to Max, “Max step away from the evil girl.”

“Mother, she is not evil. Whatever you’ve done. We can fix this. We only have to return Yande to her parents. You and I can go back to Rome and—”

“Shut up, Max,” she grunted, “I can never return to Rome.”

“You can. We can.”

“She can’t,” replied Yande, “there is a lot your mother hasn’t told you ... like why she left Rome in the first place.”

“Shut up, girl. Don’t you dare use your powers to read me.”

Nneka grabbed her sword, “You wanted to fight. Let us see how well you can fight.”

Yande lifted her hand. She muttered a spell. Nneka’s hand opened. The sword fell to the floor.

Max became alarmed, “What are you doing to my mother?” he asked with concern.

“She will stay there until the spell wears off. I have no time to entertain her foolishness. I can sense Kwento doesn’t have much time. We must get to him.”

Max turned to his mother. He saw her frozen in her spot. He sighed deeply before leaving.

As soon as Yande and Max arrived, Aminata and Joaquin embraced her. Adesanya watched. She was touched they had reunited, but her father was fading. “Yande, please,” she pleaded.

Yande kneeled by his side. She looked at his wounds and began to pray to Babalu Aye, the orisha of healing. She addressed the more serious one. His belly. She could see the organs inside bleeding. Her eyes glowed as the organs began to mend. She began to feel drained. Her ancestor whispered, “Enough Yande.” She fell back, and her father caught her.

“He’s still bleeding,” Adesanya said with concern.

Yande steadied herself, “Yes, but at least he will live. Now, I must address his wound,” she said as she moved closer to Kwento and removed the bandage. Blood blood oozed from the open wound. She took her father’s knife and gave it to Kwento, “Here, bite down on this.” She took another blade and burned it until it glowed red and orange, “this will help stop the bleeding; are you ready?” she asked.

He nodded. The smell of burnt flesh and blood filled the area. Kwento screamed as he bit down on the blade. Snot bubbled from his nose. She placed her hand over the wound and prayed for healing. She and the others chanted to Babalu Aye in Yoruba.

Kwento’s gasped; his eyes rolled.

Yande stood, “He will live.”

Olamide stitched his wound.

Adesanya kissed his forehead, “You will live, Father. I told you.”

Kwento rested peacefully in his daughter’s arms.

Joaquin looked at Kwento. He was a tall man with decent size. “There’s no we can carry him back to the village tonight. He needs rest, and we can’t stay here.”

“The great warrior witch Aminata has returned to Ife,” they heard her voice. Their heads whipped around to see her standing in warrior gear. She had several men with her.

Aminata quickly went into a fighting stance, “I have already killed my brother ... killing you will not make me lose any sleep.”

“I should have killed your daughter when I had the chance.”

“Perhaps you could have tried. Everyone knows you never fight fair. You did not fight fairly when you became the leader of the covenant. Nor did you play fairly when you wanted to receive the blessing for your unborn child. The daughter you left to die in the woods.”

“Shut up! I did no such thing.”

“Yes, you did,” Adesanya said.

Nneka saw her daughter for the first time in years. She shook her head in disbelief. “you are not my daughter. My daughter would not have been born---”

“Blind? You gave birth to me and by blood I am your daughter, but you are right. You are not my mother. You are an evil woman that the Gods have cursed and the ancestors have abandoned. Go away far from here and never return.”

Nneka took her sword and swung at Aminata. Yande was about to step in but her father held her back. Back and forth each woman wielded their swords. Aminata tangled her blade with Nneka’s and flung it to the right. She pointed the end of her blade at Nneka. “Do you yield?”

It was quiet. Then Nneka shouted, “Never. She flung dust into her eyes. She rushed Aminata and they fell to the ground grappling. Nneka had Aminata in a rear choke hold. Aminata fought to break free. Yande watched in despair, “No, she can’t die.”

“Fight Aminata, fight!” Joaquin insisted.

She dug her nails into Nneka’s flesh and tore. Nneka screamed and released her grip. Aminata stood over her, “You should do as Adesanya suggested. Leave. Your son has offered you a place in Rome. Go there.”

She cried as she rose to her feet, “I can’t. I can’t.”

Yande sighed, “If she returns to Rome, they will have her head. She was caught practicing witchcraft and she killed her husband.”

Max glared at her, “You. You killed my father?”

“It was an accident, Max. I swear,” she pleaded as she walked to him, “he was going to leave me. He was lying with another woman. I was trying to make him see that he still loved me, loved us—”

Blood spilled from Nneka’s mouth as a blade plunged into her belly. Max looked into his mother’s eyes. She touched his face. The tears streamed down his cheeks. She wiped some away, “It is all right, my son. I knew this day would come. You can return to Rome and claim the lands your father left for you.”

Her body dropped. Joaquin touched his shoulder, “It’s okay, son. You did the right thing.”

Somewhere off the coast of Poland

Seagulls squawked. The sun shined. After a storm, the sun seemed to shine its brightest. The remnants of Sif’s ship were scattered on the beach. Bodies were lying on the sand. Locals checked the coast. Amongst the debris, they found bodies. They poked at them as they spoke to each other, “This one is alive,” one man said as he kicked Sif’s leg; he grunted.

Sif sat up, “I mean you no harm,” he replied in their language, “I am looking for someone, Jacek?”

“How do you know Jacek?”

Sif whispered, “I was on my way to Ustka when my ship was capsized by a terrible storm, huge waves.”

“Jacek is a good friend to my father. Ustka is still a way up the coast. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“There is a woman; she is alive,” a man shouted.

“Your wife. She is alive.”

“Sif looked back. It was Yana. She looked terrified. He saw the bodies of a few others. He saw Revna’s body lying next to two other lifeless bodies.

Sif gulped. He looked at the man, “I need you to tie us up and take me to Jacek.”

“Tie you up?”

“Yes. Don’t ask questions. I’ll pay you well once we arrive in Ustka.”

The man nodded, “We are taking these captives to Ustka.”

The men tied the wrists of Yana and Sif. They stood by each other, “Revna is dead. This journey was a disaster.”

“You survived. That is more than what my crew got.”

She sighed in disgust as Ida’s words played in her mind, “You should be careful of those that run to you with tales of sorrow, gossip, and hate. You could find yourself in a much worse position than you started with.” She was tormented. Suddenly she felt so guilty about leaving without telling Ida anything. She wondered if Ida survived the battle. She pushed the thought out of her mind. She was alive; she was pregnant with Jarl Sigurd’s child. He’d come to find her, if not for love ... for his child.